Pleasure Cruise

by Yolanda Wallace

  “I suppose.” The news that Luisa Moreno wasn’t traveling in an official capacity made Jessica feel marginally better, but she wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea that a Mexican federal police officer was roaming around the ship. And hadn’t Raq said her girlfriend was a police officer, too? One who specialized in arresting drug dealers?

  Bathsheba’s and Luisa’s presence on the same ship was probably nothing more than a coincidence, but what if they—and Raq—were working together to take on a new target? If that was the case, Jessica could wind up being collateral damage. She swallowed hard as she wondered if the life she was trying to leave behind was about to become her downfall.

  She needed to find Brandon ASAP. She wasn’t in the habit of telling him how to do his job, but this was an emergency. Her ass was on the line, too, not just his. She had to convince him how important it was for him to maintain a low profile this week. If he drew too much attention to himself as he tried to sell the product she had helped smuggle on board, the wrong person might take notice. If he went down, he’d more than likely try to do everything he possibly could to break his fall. Once he started naming names, it wouldn’t take him long to get to hers.

  “Ready for the next set?” Raq asked.

  “Yeah, I got your back.”

  As she spotted her during her next set of repetitions, Jessica looked down into Raq’s cautious brown eyes. Raq’s story had made it seem like the love of a good woman was the only thing that had helped her change her life, but Jessica suspected the effort had taken all of Raq’s obvious physical strength as well as copious amounts of mental fortitude. When the time came, she hoped she had it in her to follow Raq’s example.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  For a heart-stopping moment, Jessica thought Raq was referring to something other than working as a fitness professional. “Since high school,” she said after she took a second or two to regain her composure. “My first job was as a locker room attendant in a local gym. I swept floors and washed towels for a few months before I got the itch to lead the classes instead of cleaning up after them. The owners hired me as a trainer after I got certified, but they could only afford to take me on part-time. I applied for a job at one of the twenty-four-hour places across town. The manager called me in for an interview, but it didn’t take me long to realize I didn’t want to deal with the corporate environment. When I heard Centennial Cruises was hiring, I decided to sign on with them instead. The schedule’s flexible, so I was able to accept Centennial’s offer without giving up my gig at the gym. The pay isn’t that great, but the perks are incredible. I get to see the world, practice running my own gym, and meet a ton of interesting people along the way.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You sound skeptical.”

  Raq blew out a breath as she completed another repetition. “I’m not trying to offend you. If this is what you want, go for it. All I’m saying is I’d much rather keep my feet on solid ground.”

  “Give it a day or two. The views on the open water are amazing. The first time you see the sun rise while we’re at sea, you’ll be just like Leonardo DiCaprio in Titanic. Standing in the bow of the ship with your arms spread wide, shouting you’re king of the world.”

  “Not gonna happen. You remember how that movie ended, don’t you? Dude went from calling himself king of the world to bobbing like an ice cube. It doesn’t pay to fuck with Mother Nature. No matter how powerful you might think you are, she wins every time.” Raq set the barbell down and retrieved her water bottle. “You’re cool people,” she said after she took a sip. “Where are you from?”

  “Coral Springs. It’s a few miles north of Fort Lauderdale. My parents still live there, but I have an apartment in the city.” Jessica mentally scolded herself for sharing too much personal information. Raq was a bit too inquisitive for her comfort. When she answered Raq’s questions, she needed to provide the bare minimum, not tell her life story. Otherwise, her openness could come back to haunt her.

  Raq tossed her empty water bottle in a nearby recycling bin. “I’m about to take a shower and find my girl so we can catch some dinner. Are you going to be here all week?”

  “During the day, yes. After hours, you’re more likely to find me hanging out in a bar or the disco.”

  “Cool. If I don’t spot you macking on some honey on the dance floor tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re going to be sailing all day and I’m going to need a distraction. I’ll probably be here a while, so you’d better get used to seeing my face.”

  Raq was easy on the eyes, but Jessica couldn’t afford to have her shadowing her all day long. “There’s plenty to do on board besides work out. Tomorrow, Sinjin Smythe and Laure Fortescue are doing a question-and-answer session. Since they own a vineyard in France, maybe they’ll offer free samples.”

  “I’m not much of a wine drinker, but Bathsheba’s been going on and on about the session since she found out Sinjin and Laure were going to be on board. She had the hots for both of them before they retired, so she’s planning to be front and center tomorrow. Now that I think about it, it might be a good idea if I tagged along with her. I need to make sure she doesn’t throw her underwear at the stage like a groupie at an Usher concert. I’ll drop by after—unless she gets too worked up and needs my help burning off the extra energy. If that’s the case, I won’t be able to move for a couple of days, let alone work out.”

  “Then I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

  Jessica always tried to keep her dealings with Brandon on the down low, but with Raq spending a significant amount of time in the gym every day, she would have to be more discreet than ever. Raq seemed nice, but Jessica wasn’t comfortable with the idea of a police consultant becoming her new BFF. Was Raq being straight with her, or was she simply plying her for information?

  She tried to rationalize her way out of a full-blown panic attack.

  “You can do this,” she told herself. “All you’ve got to do is keep your nose clean for eight days. Then, when you get home, you can start over fresh. Just don’t do or say anything stupid in the meantime. And when she isn’t watching you, make sure you’ve got eyes on her. In the grand scheme of things, you’re just a minnow. If she is on the hunt, she has her sights set on someone a whole lot bigger than you are.”

  Her outlook began to improve until she remembered a very important fact: the best way to catch a big fish was to start with a small one.

  * * *

  The dress code for dinner was supposed to be smart casual, so Spencer felt pretty good about her chosen outfit—khaki pants, a red polo shirt, and her favorite pair of Doc Martens. But that was before she left her room. Her opinion changed as soon as she headed downstairs and caught a glimpse of the crowd of nattily attired women filing into the main dining room. Then she went from feeling like a million bucks to feeling more like a country bumpkin venturing out on the town for the first time. Considering the population of the small town she called home, she didn’t think the analogy strayed too far from the truth. In Pipkinville, no one got too dressed up unless they were going to a wedding or a funeral. And sometimes not even then.

  She searched for the nearest exit, wondering if she should use her cruise card to buy a more upscale outfit from one of the many boutiques on board.

  “Stop,” she told herself as she tried to keep from psyching herself out. “Just relax and be yourself. You can’t get anywhere by pretending to be someone else.”

  She hadn’t gotten anywhere by being herself either, but she had to make a stand at some point.

  “There’s no time like the present.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly released it before she headed inside. Because she had been given an early seating assignment, she had expected the crowd to be sparse. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Even though it was only a little after six p.m., most of the seats surrounding the elaborately decorated tables were already filled. Servers carrying trays piled high with steak, se
afood, and an assortment of luxurious desserts hustled to and fro. Bartenders worked double-time trying to keep up with dozens of orders for beer, wine, champagne, and mixed drinks. So many corks were being popped it sounded like someone was throwing an indoor fireworks show minus the colorful pyrotechnics. And it was only the first night.

  Spencer’s stomach growled when she saw a selection of mouthwatering appetizers being delivered to a nearby table. Lobster-avocado cocktail, toasted ravioli, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and roasted grapes, to name a few.

  “No wonder Mom insists on losing ten pounds before she goes on a cruise. By the time this week is over, I’ll probably be wishing I’d done the same thing. Oh, yeah,” she said when she saw a fountain spewing geysers of melted chocolate, “I think it’s time I renewed my gym membership.”

  Spencer was grateful that assigned seating would prevent her from wandering around as aimlessly as a high school outcast desperate to be invited to eat with the cool kids.

  “Been there, done that,” she said, tamping down unwanted memories.

  She scanned the room as she tried to locate her designated table. She hoped she had been given a spot in a quiet corner so she could discreetly take in all the sights and sounds as her fellow travelers greeted old friends or introduced themselves to new ones. No such luck. Her table was located in the center of the room. Perfect if she wanted to see and be seen. Terrible if she wanted to maintain her usual low profile.

  “I hope you weren’t planning on being a wallflower tonight. If so, you’re not blending into the background very well.”

  Spencer relaxed when she heard a familiar voice. She turned to find Hannah standing behind her. Hannah was wearing a long-sleeved white silk shirt, black tuxedo pants with a line of silver sequins trailing down the outside of each leg, and a pair of sexy black stilettos. “Wow. You look amazing.”

  “Do you want to trade outfits? Given a choice, I’d rather wear your shoes than mine. My feet are already killing me, and I haven’t even hit the dance floor yet.”

  “I wouldn’t be able to make it two steps in those heels, let alone attempt to look semi-coordinated on the dance floor. My mother tried to teach me how to walk in heels before my first school dance, but the lesson didn’t last long. My dad said I looked about as graceful as a cow trying to walk on ice.”

  “Your father doesn’t pull any punches, does he?”

  “He definitely operates without a filter, that’s for sure. He’d never be mistaken for Archie Bunker, though. His comments are always funny rather than mean-spirited. Even so, I’m sure my mother wishes he would keep some of them to himself.” Her father’s boyish charm kept him from putting his foot in his mouth, but as she had demonstrated that afternoon when she’d revealed to Amy that her mother had purchased the ticket to her cruise on a resale site, Spencer’s skills in that particular area weren’t as highly developed. Unlike her father, she could take a conversation from comfortable to awkward in sixty seconds flat. Surprisingly, her slip of the tongue with Amy was her only conversational faux pas today. Then again, the night was still young. She took a peek over her shoulder, but Hannah appeared to be alone. “Is Bonnie running late again?”

  “Of course she is. Her personal slogan should be ‘I’m so far behind, I thought I was first.’”

  Bonnie had been a no-show at the mixer that afternoon. Spencer was hoping to meet her tonight before they headed off to their respective tables. “Tomorrow, you should tell her dinner’s at five. Maybe she’ll show up on time.”

  “I like the way you think.” Hannah tucked her clutch bag under her arm. “Are you getting the lay of the land before you break bread, or are you waiting for someone?”

  “Before the mixer started, Amy asked me to save her a seat tonight. She’s not an Indie, but I doubt anyone at the table will mind her bending the rules a bit.”

  “You’re dining with our lovely cruise director this evening? Color me green with envy.”

  “It’s not a date or anything like that,” Spencer said before Hannah could start barreling down the wrong track. She had spent all afternoon drumming the idea into her head that Amy was more interested in her opinions than she was in her. She didn’t want to undo all the hard work she had put in. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to string two sentences together, let alone carry on an entire conversation. “She just wants to pick my brain about how the trip’s going so far.”

  She hated surveys. In her mind, they were little more than massive wastes of time since the majority of respondents were so eager to put the tedious task behind them, they didn’t take the time to share their true feelings. Yet she had eagerly volunteered to answer Amy’s list of questions. Did she have the guts to tell Amy how she really felt, or would she cave and tell her what she wanted to hear?

  “I have a few things she could pick,” Hannah said. “Rest assured my brain isn’t one of them.”

  Spencer couldn’t help but laugh at the stark contrast between Hannah’s polished exterior and her constant stream of off-color jokes. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

  “As my friends say, you can take me anywhere but out.” Hannah made eye contact with a woman in a colorful sari across the room. The woman flashed a flirtatious smile before she returned her attention to the group of Indies sharing the table with her. Hannah’s nose twitched like she was a hound dog on the hunt. “Have fun talking shop. I see someone who needs to hear about some exciting real estate opportunities. Starting with my stateroom.”

  Spencer watched as Hannah made her way through the crowd, shook hands with the woman in the sari, and slid into the chair next to her. The number on the table didn’t match the one on Hannah’s cruise card, but it didn’t seem to matter. Hannah had the woman hanging on her every word in no time at all. Spencer could feel the heat between them all the way across the room.

  “I’ll be surprised if they remain upright until dessert.”

  When she saw Amy walk in looking even more luscious than the Belgian chocolate streaming down the sides of the three-tier fountain, she wished the same sentiment could be applied to them.

  * * *

  Amy’s impromptu shopping spree had set her back several hundred dollars, but the appreciative look she saw on Spencer’s face made the unexpected expense worth every penny.

  “You look nice,” Spencer said.

  “This old thing?”

  Amy looked down at the outfit she had chosen to wear that night: a flowing sundress and a pair of strappy, low-wedge sandals she had bought from the boutique across from the bustling casino on the opposite end of the deck on which they now stood. She thought the items, elegant but not too fancy, fit her personality. Spencer’s outfit seemed to suit her to a T as well. Her polo shirt and chinos perfectly matched the buttoned-up computer programmer she was by day; the scuffed Doc Martens on her feet hinted at the adventurous video game enthusiast Amy had recently discovered her to be.

  Amy suspected there were many more surprises lurking beneath Spencer’s inscrutable surface, and she was eager to unwrap them all. She wished she had the freedom to do so, but if she wanted to keep the job she had worked so hard to earn, she needed to keep her hands to herself for the next week or so. After that, all bets were off.

  Exploring her body might be more fun, she thought as Spencer’s penetrating gaze wandered over her, but exploring her mind could prove to be more rewarding.

  Spencer was mysterious. Intriguing. Awkward in some social situations, but thoroughly at ease in others. She was the kind of woman you could share a memorable one-night stand with and never see again, or spend a lifetime getting to know. When Spencer flashed a lazy smile that made her stomach turn somersaults, Amy knew she could get into a boatload of trouble no matter which route she chose. One path could result in her losing her job, the other might cost her something even more dear—her heart.

  “Old? Are you sure about that?”

  Spencer jerked her chin toward Amy’s left shoulder. Following Spencer’s line of sight, Amy s
potted a price tag dangling from one of the spaghetti straps on her dress. How had she missed that? She hurriedly reached to remove the tag, but Spencer held her at bay.

  “Here. Let me.”

  Spencer lifted the strap and slid two fingers underneath to trap one end of the plastic string holding the price tag in place. Amy’s breath caught when Spencer’s fingers brushed against her skin. Spencer’s touch was strong and sure, but tender at the same time. Like someone who was used to working with both her hands and her brain.

  Spencer gave a quick tug, and Amy heard a snap. The sound was the plastic string breaking, not her control. Somehow, that remained intact. For the moment, anyway, though she had no idea how long that might last. For as long as she could remember, temptation had always proven to be something she would rather give in to than resist.

  “Thank you,” she said after Spencer tossed the price tag and broken string in the trash. “If I need help getting dressed, I know who to call.”

  “In that case, I’d better update my résumé.”

  “You never know when a skill like that might come in handy.” Amy hadn’t meant to flirt with Spencer. It just came so easily. She wiped images of Spencer dressing and undressing her from her mind, then switched to a more neutral subject after they took their seats at the table. “Why did you decide to go into computer programming?”

  “When I was in elementary school, my favorite subjects were always math and science. After I took a computer math class in middle school, I realized I had found my niche. We wrote a few programs in class, and I was fascinated by what could result from a few simple commands. I started writing more and more of them, both for class and for fun. Even before I got to high school, I knew what I wanted my college major and future profession to be.”